


Order

by candlelight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emetophobia, F/F, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Gore, Other, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:36:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlelight/pseuds/candlelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 2: The screams echo off the stone walls again and again and again until Marlene can’t tell which ones are coming from her mouth and which ones are the echoes. (MarlenexDorcas)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prewett

**Author's Note:**

> "Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body . . ."  
> "Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes..."  
> "That’s Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken..."  
> -Mad Eye, OoTP, page 174

Gideon says that he never really figured out how they got into the Order either. When people ask, he says that declarations of honour and courage and heroism and alcohol had a lot to do with it. (Gideon sent Dumbledore an owl eight months after they left school, as he watched his brother sit at Caradoc’s hospital bed, and struggled- but failed- to stop himself from imagining what it would be like if it was Emmaline lying on those white sheets, with her pink cheeks bleached of all colour.)

If there’s one thing Gideon hates more than anything else in this world (besides Voldemort, which goes without saying), it is the colour red. Red, red, Gideon _hates_ red (which is ironic because on Quidditch days he used to paint himself red and Fabian would paint himself gold, and they were the best beaters in 60 years).

He hates the red on Fabian’s face, the red of his bloodied stump of a hand (for a moment he wonders whether Emmaline might possibly find it sexy. Then he stifles a laugh. Emmaline Vance would probably gut him for thinking about something like that in the middle of a battle.)

The red jets of light they are sending into darkness, he hates them too, because they’ve stopped hitting anything, and it is all he can do to block the ones that are coming towards him. He hates the liquid on the floor that _looks_ black, but is in fact red, and is soaking into the robes of five shadows lying dead on the ground, dead because Gideon and Fabian, little Gid and Fay, had put them there.

Fabian’s back presses against his own, shoulder blades as sharp as knives, wet with either sweat or blood, Gideon doesn’t know.

Fabian lets out a gasp of pain as a curse grazes his skin and ricochets off a wall into darkness.

 

Fabian, always the hero, always getting him out of trouble. Fabian, appearing in his fireplace at three in the fucking morning, screaming _I’ve got a fucking lead, Gid, I think I know where he is,_  before breaking down on the floor, heaving heavy, rasping sobs as he clutched at Gideon’s shirt.

“Hey, shhh,” Gideon had whispered. “It’s okay, we’ll find him, shh.” He said the words he knew his brother needed to hear, said them softly and gently and without inhibition. When Fabian could stand again, he ignored the fact that Caradoc Dearborn had been missing for three months now, and grabbed his wand.

“Wait,” he had said, suddenly, and Fabian had watched as he pointed his wand at the wall and muttered a quick incantation under his breath.  _Em, F's got a lead. If I don't come back tell D and M. I love you_

His brother had read the words Gideon engraved in the wall, and smiled a small, sad smile. “Don’t worry, Emmaline knows.” Half turned, his face in shadow, he continued. “Wasn’t going to tell Caradoc till after the war. S’lucky I did, I s’pose.”

And then they had turned towards the fireplace and it had been Gideon’s turn to be the brave one, be the hero.

 

“You okay?” Gideon manages to croak out, using all his self-control to prevent himself from twisting around, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and apparating the fuck out of there. For one, Fabian would never forgive him.

“Yes,” breathes Fabian.

“Good,” replies Gideon and sees, out of the corner of his eye, two twin flashes of green making their way towards him.

They raise their wands as one, perfectly in sync.

“I suppose it is only fitting that we die together,” Fabian mutters.

They raise their wands as one, perfectly in sync, a second too late.


	2. McKinnon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marlene McKinnon x Dorcas Meadows. I felt this was needed after all the times they were either paired with Sirius and Remus or forgotten. Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine!

The screams echo off the stone walls again and again and again until Marlene can’t tell which ones are coming from her mouth and which ones are the echoes.

She lies on the floor, panting, feels the ache, the agony in her legs, her arms, her chest, her head, her _bones_ , and for the first time in the week she has spent here, she wishes she were dead. It isn’t the boy who is torturing her anymore, little Regulus Black, who always comes back later and says, _sorry, I’m so sorry_.

It is Bellatrix Lestrange.

Marlene struggles to open her eyes; her eyelashes stick to each other. Blood, she thinks. When she finally manages to open them, there is blood in her eyes as well. The slim figure towering over her lets out a delighted cackle. “She’s awake!”

Marlene doesn’t even have the energy left to flinch when a sharp heel digs into her already cracked ribs. She tries opens her mouth to speak, but her lips part and nothing comes out. She swallows, and she can taste the blood, salty and metallic against a background of salty and metallic that is already in her mouth. But this taste is different, this is fresh, this is _alive_.

There’s a sudden surge of adrenaline, and Marlene thinks that she should have run out of that by now.

She grits her teeth and uses her good arm to push herself into a somewhat sitting position. _Fuckfuckfuck_ is all she can think. _Fuckfuckfuck this hurts_. And then, _You’re doing this for Dorcas_. _You’re doing this for Dorcas, so you won’t tell them anything that will hurt her._ Bellatrix is looking at her, an amused smile on her face as she watches Marlene struggle.

She bends one leg, and the other, into a semblance of a crouch before almost falling back to the freezing stone floor when she puts weight on her left ankle. She shifts her weight to rest on one leg and arm.  _Dorcas bloody Meadows_ , _Marlene._

And she stands. Her shoulders are hunched in, and her good arm cradles the other protectively. One shivering, knee-buckling leg is planted on the floor, and the other touches the stone just enough to provide support. But she stands.

“Oooh, this one has spirit!” Bellatrix cackles, lips twisted into some cruel semblance of a smile, twirling her wand slowly in her fingers as she slinks towards Marlene. “What do you think, boys?”

There are two grunts and a whimper from somewhere behind her. Redwood, Lestrange and Regulus, she thinks.

She opens her mouth to speak again. There is a croak, strangled and tortured, and she suddenly realises why there is an ache in her mouth.

“Looking for this?”

Bellatrix holds something up. Something distinctly oval, and bright red in the shadowy light cast by the torches on the wall. Bile forces its way up Marlene's throat as she closes her eyes and tries to breathe. _That- t_ _hat sick bitch has my tongue._

The next minute she is retching, heaving empty, half gags that bring up nothing but blood and phlegm. By some miracle as the minutes pass, she is still standing, and her breathing is slowing, and her eyes are still shut. 

She opens them quickly when she smells something dead and rotting. Bellatrix’s face is inches from her’s, her breath warm against Marlene’s bruised skin.  _Her eyes and nose are just like Sirius’_ , Marlene thinks briefly.

The idea is so absurd that she laughs- that little Sirius Black who picked out and ate all the black liquorice from Marlene's mix, who asked for her opinion on leather jackets and combat boots and later, cigarette brands, angry, strong, soft hearted Sirius Black- that he could be related to the manic creature stood in front of her, a bloody tissue in her hand .

Her laughter is cut off sharply with a slap to the face that sends her flying to the ground.

There is a loud _crack_ and her head is ringing. Her lips, already cracked and bleeding, are split open anew. Marlene would have licked them if she could, but can do nothing to dull the sting.

Bellatrix crouches down to where Marlene is sprawled on the floor.

“You find it funny, do you?”  Her voice is strangely soft and intimate, more venomous than usual.

Marlene can hear the words, she just doesn’t entirely understand them. Bellatrix’s hair is in Marlene's mouth as she leans over her. She smells of cured meat. 

“Well, here’s what I’m going to do now, love,” Bellatrix says, louder. “Since we don't seem to mind the cruciatus as much as most. I’m going to leave you down here with the boys and let them have a little bit of fun, how would you like that, hmm?”

Marlene's own hair is dripping wet, sticky with blood. The ringing in her head from being thrown to the stone floor hasn't stopped yet, almost intensified, and she's amused that despite all Bellatrix's promises of pain, things seem to be growing fuzzier. 

And then, for one final time in these days (weeks?), she’s in her happy place, with Dorcas.

That one blissful week between buying the fancy bathtub and Marlene's fateful mission, the cozy Hogsmeade date after the uneventful patrol last Christmas, the softness of her hands, her hair, her eyes-

Dorcas has such blue eyes, with hints of green and yellow and black, and Marlene has often told her that is she wasn’t so completely, utterly in love with her, than she would probably hate her just for being so much more beautiful than Marlene.

Faintly in the background, she hears Bellatrix's voice has risen higher, louder, possibly closer to her face, spittle flecking over her cheeks as “Would you find that funny, you half blood slut? You impure, filthy-”

Dorcas smiles like a little girl, half shy, half excited, half mischievous, half naive happiness. Marlene still remembers the feel of those soft lips pressed against her own in a smile, a half sad goodbye, a come home soon, a promise of more. Marlene smiles her own quiet, private smile as Bellatrix all but shrieks with rage-

And then she screams, or tries to, as a handful of hair is ripped from her head, jerked back into the harsh reality of freezing stones digging into her spine and pain, everywhere- 

“Bella-”

“Quiet, Regulus.”

“But-”

“Quiet, cousin, or I will let your father know his son is still a spineless child-”

Marlene hears footsteps moving towards her, loud and with purpose. Regulus, she thinks, a second before she feels his presence lean in closer to her, and allows herself to hope for mercy. He says the words calmly, wand firm against her temple, and she in comforted that in this, at least, there is peace.

The last sound she hears isn’t Bellatrix’s sudden silence or Regulus' quiet, "you can tell my father about that." It’s Dorcas’ laugh, loud and clear and beautiful.


End file.
